


Love not Like

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Adoption, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bullying, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Forced Pregnancy, Mpreg, Periods, Post Mpreg, Underage Rape/Non-con, before samwell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eric doesn’t think he ever really liked figure skating.





	1. Chapter 1

Eric doesn’t think he ever really liked figure skating. 

He loved it of course- the feeling of the ice beneath his feet, the air blowing through his hair and fluttering his eyelashes with every turn of his body, how light he felt with every jump.

The feeling of his feet hitting the ice again after a salchow was especially exhilarating, like somehow touching the sky and then being firmly grounded back to earth, all with full control of everything.

But, like every pleasure in life, it seemed to come at a cost. Eric can look back at his childhood and could probably count on one hand the amount of times he had the chance to do real ‘kid’ things. Watching cartoons all afternoon after school, sleeping in on a Saturday morning. Having play dates with friends.

Having friends. 

While it seemed like every other kid in the world had all the time in the world, Eric’s days were filled mostly with five am practices followed by more practice right after school, always lasting well into the night. 

Eric was good. Like, he knew that. His fellow skaters knew that. Every coach he had ever had knew that. He hadn’t been placing at almost every competition from since he was 7 for no reason. 

Eric loves the ice. He loves dancing on the ice, jumping on the ice, spinning and winning, as his Mama use to say.

Eric just doesn’t like everything else that comes with it. He doesn’t like his classmates having more ammo to blast at him- Hey, Eric, do a spin for us? A twirl? I saw that video of you on YouTube. Does you’re Daddy know you dress and dance like that?

Eric doesn’t really like his club mates either. He was always younger, and better, which doesn’t earn you many friends when everyone is trying for 1st place. 

Mama said it’s because his team is mostly omegas. It’s bound to get catty, right? Don’t worry too much about it sweetheart. You just go out and do you’re best. 

But Eric can deal with all this. He can deal with weird alphas in class making weird comments he doesn’t fully understand, he can put up with a few omegas on the team tripping him in the locker room and hiding his skates. He can deal with falling asleep in class from going to bed at 11 and waking up at 4. He can deal with always watching his weight, he can deal with Mama and her high exceptions and Daddy with none. 

And he did. Until It happened, and being on the ice just wasn’t worth it anymore.

-

Eric had a few coaches in the very beginning.

His first was a kind omega named Miss Anne-Marie. The typical church-fanatic teenager volunteering with kids and somehow trying to connect Jesus into every activity. 

Eric liked her enough. She had a warm smile, and seemed to love every minute dealing with 10 crying kids stepping on an ice rink for the 1st time. Plus, she did a hell of a toe loop in an ankle-length jean skirt.

Next was Katya. Eric absolutely adored Katya. He sometimes wonders what his life would have been like if he never advanced beyond what Katya could coach him. 

Her English was rough and her methods even rougher. 

“Eric, lazy footwork! No good. If you want be lazy, call Mommy and go home!”

There was rarely a session where someone didn’t leave the rink in tears. Parents complained about the rough alpha and the way she spoke to her students, but being one of the only figure skating coaches in the area, rarely was anything was said directly. Katya pushed all her students to their very limits, and Eric lived for every moment of it.

He was stunned when Katya cried when he handed her a goodbye pie, the first one he had ever made all by himself, with Mama watching from the kitchen table of course. 

“In all years, I never receive gift from student.” Eric watched her dab at her eyes with the bottom of her shirt, her thick arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders as they stood in a quiet corner of his local rink.

“You make very proud. You are favorite student. Please, keep working hard and keep winning. For yourself and Katya.”

Mama snapped a picture of the two of them on her fancy new phone.

Eric cried the entire car ride home. He didn’t really want to leave Katya, or his local rink. His new one was over an hour away, and while Katya said she heard that a few of his new coach’s students have gone pro, Eric still wasn’t sure. 

But what was the point of skating if he wasn’t going to keep improving and moving on to the next chapter? It wasn’t like Eric to settle. Maybe it was time for him to be a little brave. 

Well, at least that was the reasoning Mama offered when Eric mentioned in between tears that he was doubting his decision.

“But honey, at the end of the day it’s your choice. I’m just happy to drive you and see you do your best and enjoy yourself. Alright, sweet pea? You just say the word.”

Of course Eric wanted to improve. Of course he wanted to keep succeeding. Eric never settles. What was the point of skating if he did?

Eric decided to be brave. 

He was 11.

-

Coach never really was interested in what Eric was up too, whether it was figure skating or baking or anything else.

He would nod when Eric went on and on and on about it at dinner, about different recipes he was going to try, the embarrassing way someone flubbed a jump at practice today, so do you think Santa will get me some new skates and an apron like Mama’s for Christmas this year?

Eric could feel that he wasn’t listening. He would shake his head almost like he was in a trance, usually picking at whatever vegetable Mama dared to place near his dinner. 

Mama and him usually didn’t have much trouble filling in the gaps in conversation. But once in a while Coach did have something to say, and it was usually to disagree with something Eric had already done or planned to do. 

“An hour?” Coach muttered, standing behind Eric, stomach pressed against the back of his chair and arms coming above each of his shoulders as he cut his steak into more manageable pieces. He was probably too old for Coach to be cutting his food like this, but Eric sometimes liked to be babied by his parents, especially if it was just the three of them at home. 

“Can’t Dicky just dance at the one in town? It’s closer.”

Mama sighed as Eric’s face fell at his words.

“Sweetheart, Dicky graduated from Katya’s class. This is a good thing! He’s gonna be skating with kids more on his level now.”

Coach places his steak knife back near his plate, rubbing Eric gently on the shoulder for the smallest second before returning to his seat at the head of the table. 

“It’s far. This ain’t gonna effect his schooling?” 

“I don’t even have morning practices anymore.” Eric mumbled, at the same time Mama said “The practices are mostly on the weekends, with just a few in the week.”

“Hm.” Coach took a bite, thinking for a moment. He turned to Eric, for the first time in the conversation. 

“You make sure your grades don’t fall. Y’hear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I don’t want you coming home late anymore. I let you get away with it before, but, uh, you’re growing into a young omega and all. I want you in this house by 9:30.”

Eric looked down at his plate, face burning. He started his first heat about a week ago, which was horrible and scary, and currently in the middle of his first period. The fact Coach decided this was a good time to finally acknowledge it made Eric feel embarrassed. Weird. Ashamed?

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Coach said, turning back to his dinner. “Suzanne?”

“Sounds fair to me, honey.”

“Alright.”

-

After dinner Mama served up a bowl of ice cream. Coach was cracking open a beer on the couch, fiddling with the TV before finding his Football recorded on the dvr.

“You bought ice cream?”

“Huh? Oh no baby, your Daddy got you this. He gets me ice cream whenever I’m having my omega troubles. I think he’s trying to extend that favor to you, bless his heart.”

“Oh.”

Eric ends up sitting on the couch with his father’s arm around him, Coach sipping on his beer and Eric nibbling on his ice cream as they watch the game in silence, the soft sounds of Mama humming as she tidies up the kitchen in the background.

It isn’t as awkward as Eric feels it should be, considering the dinner they just had. 

His father groans at the TV, tossing his arm up and almost spilling his beer. 

“Dammit Anderson, run!”

Eric looks up at Coach. “Ain’t this his last season?”

Coach reaches over the coffee table to place his now empty beer on a coaster. Leaning back against the couch and stretching, he readjusts his arm back around Eric’s side. 

“Yup. If he tried to play another season, they’d have to wheel him out to the field. He’s older than me, the poor bastard!”

Eric giggles at Coaches enthusiasm, and Coach chuckles as Mama halfheartedly yells “Language!” pulling a guilty face and finger over his lips to Eric, like it was their little secret and Mama hasn’t already heard.

Eric laughs even louder, and Coach fake shushes him even more. He covers his mouth, still giggling underneath.

He likes moments like these. He knows his Daddy probably wanted an alpha son, one that could play on his team at the high school one day and win all the time. Settling for an omega son who danced on ice in tight sparkly outfits and baked and listened to Beyoncé obsessively probably isn’t what Coach imagined, and Eric knew that. 

But moments where he managed to say the right thing and Coach looked pleased with him, Eric lived for. He scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Coach’s middle and pulling his feet up to the couch and tucking them underneath himself. Mama joined them a minute later, tucking herself at Coach’s other side, glass of wine in hand.

Eric falls asleep like that, face tucked into Coach’s side, ice cream still coating his teeth.


	2. Chapter 2

Meeting what would be his last figure skating coach, Eric didn’t give it much thought before it was actually happening. That car ride early that Saturday morning was mostly filled with Mama and Eric singing one of Beyoncé’s new songs on repeat.

“_So since I'm not your everything_  
_ How about I'll be nothing, nothing at all to you_  
_ Baby I won't shed a tear for you..._”

Mama hummed, pulling up to the building. “Do you wanna play it one more time? We’re a bit early.”

Eric twirled his fingers, looking at his new rink. It was at least twice as big as the old one.

“Okay.”

Mama leaned over and fiddled with the CD player, while Eric looked out. He could see a few kids walking into the building together, fancy gym bags thrown over their shoulders and their entire outfits looked stylish yet athletic.

Eric was wearing just some plain black leggings and a oversized hoodie from his father’s favorite football team. Mama had placed his skates, lunch, and change of clothes in a reusable grocery bag.

When they finally made their way into the building, Eric suddenly had a dozen pairs of eyes in him and a deep knot forming at the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t see any parents standing around or sitting in the stands like he was use to seeing back at his old rink, and he wondered if maybe Mama wasn’t supposed to come in with him. The weight of her arm around his shoulders suddenly felt very heavy and he could feel heat traveling up his ears.

Everyone looked so much older too. Like the high schoolers Eric sometimes saw when Coach brought him to football practices before Mama could pick him up and bring him to his own.

“Hey there!” A door to the left of where most of the kids were stretching and warming up.

A man walked towards Eric and his mother. An alpha, average height but a bit overweight with graying hair.

“Now, you must be Eric. So nice to meet y’all, I’m Coach Drystan.”

Mama shook his hand and Eric did the same.

“Now, I’ve seen the tapes your previous Coach sent in and I have to say Mrs. Bittle, you seem to have a star on your hands! Amazing footwork, and interesting song choices. Especially seeing he’s still so young.”

Mama giggled, giving Eric a squeeze. “Dicky here just turned 11 a few months ago. You know, I actually had a few questions about practice times, he’s about to start middle school soon and-“

Eric started to zone out as he often did when Mama started chatting endlessly with other grownups. He started to look around the rink, admiring just how big it really was from the inside. Coach Drystan cut Mama off.

“Why doesn’t Eric go around the rink and introduce himself to everyone? I’m sure we can work something out about times, but there’s a few forms I need you to fill out.”

Mama ended up following Drystan to his office, leaving Eric stranded near the front door. He didn’t know what to do, so he just stood there, frozen, heart pounding a mile a minute.

“Hey.” Someone yelled, snapping Eric out of his trance. It was a slim red headed girl, a beta. “Are you just gonna stay there? Come warm up with us.”

Eric walked towards the group, stuff and clutching his bag. The girl laughed.

“We don’t bite, sweetie. You’re Eric right?”

“Yeah.” he whispered.

“Well, I’m Missy.” She pointed towards the tall boy and curvy Latina girl standing behind her, both omegas. “That’s Caleb and Marisol.”

“Hi.”

The girl, Marisol, put her hands on her hips. “So you're 11?”

Eric nodded. Caleb laughed, strolling over to rest his arm on Marisol’s head. “Well Mari, now you’re not the youngest anymore! Just the shortest.”

Marisol growled, shoving him away. “Get the fuck off me Caleb!”

Missy rolled her eyes, hissing at the two. “Guys, stop it. You’re scaring him, and he just got here.”

“I’m fine...” Eric mumbled.

“Anyways.” Missy said, reaching up to twist her waist length hair into a bun. “Don’t bother talking to anyone else. They all think they’re better cause they’re in high school and college or whatever.” She tucked a few stray pieces behind her ear, pointing at the two still bickering behind her.

“Marisol is 13 and me and Caleb are 14. Caleb is in high school already, technically, but he’s homeschooled so it doesn’t count.”

“Hey!” Caleb yelled, but didn’t add anything else to his argument. Marisol snorted.

“Lunch is at 1, practice usually ends by like 5. We get a ten minute break every hour. Drystan is... tough. Just don’t get on his nerves and you’ll be fine.”

“Okay-“

“Dicky!” Mama yelled from the other side of rink, quickly walking towards him. Eric hears giggling echoing through out the huge space. His face burns.

“I’m heading out Dicky, I guess parents don’t stay for practice.” Her face scrunched up, not seeming to happy about that. “I’ll be close, just gonna check out the shops they got up here.” She kisses his cheek, moving her hand bag to her wrist to smooth out his hair.

“Call me if anything, sweetie. I’ll be back by 5. Love you!”

“Bye, Mama. Thank you.”

Mama snuck in a few more kisses before heading out the door, yelling another bye at Coach Drystan who was just heading out his office.

“Alright boys and girls! Roll call!”

-

When Missy said Coach Drystan was tough, she wasn’t kidding. He didn’t yell like Katya did, but he was firm in his commands and didn’t except anything other than “Yes, Sir” as an answer.

Eric swore he could feel his eyes bore into him the entire time he was in the ice, him even slipping into a pair of skates and stepping into the ice to guide Eric into the proper posture. It’s was definitely a lot more personal than Eric was use to, and a few of the older kids kept looking over as Drystan guided Eric with a hand on his chest and the other on his upper, inner thigh, bringing his leg up into position.

Eric obediently followed every direction given to him, and Drystan seemed to contempt enough to call for an early lunch.

Eric’s legs burned and he skated over to the edge of rink, slipping his blade guards and walked over to the bench he left his water bottle on. He sipped on it, wiping the sweat from his brow. He had ditched his hoodie a few hours ago, a plain black T-shirt sticking to his skin from the sweat.

Caleb came strolling behind him, out of breath and rummaging though a bag. He pulled out an inhaler a took a puff.

Eric looked over him concerned, and Caleb shrugged. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Marisol and Missy came walking up the stairs from where there was a gym downstairs, and headed toward the two.

“You boys gonna join us for lunch out on the roof?”

Eric pulled out the leftovers Mama had packed him from last night. He made sure to pull the sticky note Mama puts on his Tupperware everyday before it could blow off into the wind, slipping it back in his bag before anyone could look. He didn’t read it, but he could tell Mama used a sparkly pen and added lots of hearts.

The chicken and veggies looked alright but the rice was a little dryer than it was last night. He was hungry though, and started to dig in, tuning back in to what the group was talking about every few minutes.

“Ugh. Salad. Drystan must be telling my dad I need to lose weight again.” Marisol turned her bowl, showing a sad bowl of iceberg lettuce and a handful of cherry tomatoes, no dressing.

Eric’s mouth started talking before his brain could think. “You’re not even close to fat.”

There was a beat of silence and Eric started to stutter.

“Excuse me-“

“You’re fine, Eric, don’t sweat it. You’re a kid so I don’t expect you to notice, but Marisol has enormous ASSets if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh. You’re so rude Cal.” Said rolling her eyes, snatching a dinosaur shaped chicken nugget of his tinfoil.

“It’s true, Mari. I would kill for your tits. What are you, a double D?” Missy said, with a mouth full of peanut butter, clutching her own chest and pouting.

Marisol growled, ripping up the single Dino nugget to spread across her lettuce. “I would kill for your A cup. I’m normal people skinny, but a freaking cow in skating.”

Eric felt out of place in this conversation. He had always been thin, and remembers how Katya use to tell his Mother that he should eating more and gaining more for proper muscle gain and recovery.

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a zip lock bag of apple slices. He hands it to Marisol, who looks surprised.

“Well, I think you’re pretty as a peach. All of y’all.”

This earns Eric a handful of high pitched coo’s and pinch’s to his cheeks.

“Ai, qué chulo! I already like him, his Mama raised him right.” Marisol said, adding the apple to her make shift salad.

“Can we keep him?” Caleb asks Missy, as if Eric was a stray puppy.

They laughed at the face Eric pulled at that.

-

The next few weeks were mostly of blur of practices, school, more practices, and hanging out with his, uh. Friends?

Eric didn’t know what to call the group yet. He never really ever been part of a group, just having a few acquaintances from school and church here and there.

He ate with them everyday. Did warm ups with them, and in the locker rooms, they all changed near each other.

“Oh my god! MISSY! Are you wearing a thong?!”

Missy turned to where Caleb was standing, open mouthed and still in just a towel from his shower.

“My sister took me to Victoria Secret last week. Do you like?” Missy did a twirl, showing off a pink, flowery thing, Marisol snorting when she did a little shake at the end.

“You’re so lucky! I’m stuck with granny panties, my dad would never buy me anything else.” Marisol pouted, snapping her own waistband.

“Totally, like same.” Caleb wrapped another towel around his head and walked towards his locker.

Eric looked down at himself. He was wearing what he always wore, briefs with little characters on them. Mama mostly still picked his clothes out. Today was panda bears, surrounded by baby pink.

He pulled on his shorts on a little quicker.

It was the end of practice, so everyone was filing out of the building. Most of the other kids were old enough to drive, so only a few stuck around waiting for parents.

Marisol was always the first of the group to leave, her dad a single parent, and a worrisome omega, Marisol mentioning that he sometimes waited in the car for more than an hour, even though they lived fairly close.

Missy usually left soon after that, unless her parents and older sister forgot who was supposed to pick her up that day. That seemed to happen pretty often.

That usually left Caleb and Eric. Caleb came from a big family, with lots of siblings and relatives. Eric doesn’t think he’s ever seen the same person pick up Caleb more than once.

“My cousin’s here.” Eric handed Caleb back the headphone he had been sharing, Caleb still using one of those old portable CD players. Caleb might’ve been more obsessed with Blake Shelton then Eric was with Beyoncé. He was always listening to the same CD.

Caleb starting wrapping the cord of his headphones up, looking around the rink. Eric and him were the last ones left, except for Coach Drystan, who could be seen from the two large glass windows in his office, filing paperwork.

Caleb threw his bag on his shoulder, looking at the clock on the wall. He had a nervous grimace, and wrung his hands together.

“Where’s your Mama?”

“She running a bit late, today. Mama called Coach Drystan, my MooMaw needed help with something.”

Caleb looked sick. Eric asked if he was alright.

“Let us give you a ride.” Caleb said, ignoring his question.

“I live really far.”

“Caleb!” his cousin yelled from the door. “Say bye to your friend already, I’m tired! I work all day ya know!”

Caleb shuffled his feet, looking at his cousin, Drystan’s office, then finally at Eric.

Eric was confused. Why was he acting so weird? Caleb was one of the least anxious people Eric’s ever met.

“My Mama will be here real soon, honest. My Daddy don’t like me getting home late anyways.”

Caleb stared at Eric for a second, before turning and rushing to the door, without so much as a wave goodbye.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” Eric shouted. Caleb didn’t answer, the heavy metal doors slamming behind him, his cousin already out the door.

Eric sat in the silence for a moment. Fidgeted with his bag, looking around the rink. He didn’t bring anything with him to do, no books or undid homework. Eric usually left before Caleb, and Caleb usually kept Eric plenty entertained with stories and gossip about his family.

Eric heard some footsteps, and turned to see Coach Drystan walking out his office, looking around.

“No sign of your Mama yet?”

Eric shook his head. Drystan nodded.

“Boy, is it cold out here.” Drystan shivered exaggeratedly, fake chattering his teeth. Eric giggled at his Coach’s antics. Drystan came closer, sitting on the bench near Eric.

“Look at you. You ain’t cold?” Drystan patted Eric’s thigh. He was wearing shorts, his Daddy's hoodie that came to the bottom of them and keeping him warm enough. Eric shrugged.

Drystan didn’t move his hand. Eric shifted a bit in his seat.

Him and Drystan weren’t nearly as close as him and Katya were, but over the last few weeks he’d been nice. Always complimenting Eric, even if he was correcting him at the same time. He asked Eric how school was, about things he liked. Always asked if he had eaten when he came in for practice, and always offered a granola bar no matter the answer.

There were a few odd moments though. Drystan was more touchy than Eric was use to, always with a hand on someone’s shoulder or lower back when speaking with them. But he did it to almost everyone, so was it really that strange? Was Eric the strange one for thinking it was?

Once, Eric came to an after school practice late because the school bus has broken down, and it took awhile for the replacement to show up.

When Eric arrived, everyone else was already on the ice. He rushed into the locker rooms to change.

He was standing there in his underwear, rummaging though his bag when the door opened. Eric jumped.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry!” Drystan said, still holding the door open. “Didn’t know anyone was still in here.”

Eric was stood like a deer in headlights. Why wasn’t he closing the door yet?

Drystan stared at him for what felt like an eternity. “Well, see you on the ice.”

The door closed. Eric was stunned. What- what was that? What did he mean he didn’t know anyone was in here?

Eric had waved to him on his way in.

Eric pulled his clothes on rushed out to the ice, embarrassment creeping up his chest and some other new, strange feeling settling in his stomach.

He asked Mama to pick him up from school and drive him straight to practice from then on.

The same feeling Eric had that day, he was feeling right then and there. Drystan kept his hand where it was, studying Eric’s face. He felt sick, like he wanted to get up and run yet he didn’t move an inch.

“I’ve got the heat on in my office.” Drystan said, his hand finally moving away, but traveling to Eric’s lower back. It was like his blood stopped flowing, air stuck in his lungs.

“Let’s sit and wait for your Mama in there. It’s too cold for us to be sitting out here.”

Eric didn’t know why he stood up, silently following his Coach into his office. It felt like everything inside of him was screaming for him to turn around and say “No, I don’t want to, I wanna stay out here” and yet he didn’t.

Eric was raised kindly, but also strictly. The thought of disobeying or being rude to an adult scared him. He can remember being really little, his Mama spanking him in the car for calling his nursery school teacher a name he heard Daddy say all the time at football practice, when she put him in timeout. Mama made him apologize the next day, a tight grip on his arm.

He thought about that as he sat in the plush chair on the other side of Drystan’s desk that was offered to him, watching as his coach lowered the blinds of the windows in his office.

He thought about nothing as Drystan rolled his office chair close, hand returning to his thigh.


	3. Chapter 3

Eric spent a lot of time in the following weeks thinking about why everything seemed so. Normal. Boring, even.

He still had breakfast every morning with Coach and Mama, and dinner every evening. Practice went on as usual. School started and ended just the same. Lunch’s with his new group went on with their usual antics, only difference being that Caleb was quieter than usual. The birds kept chirping and the world kept spinning, and it seemed the only thing out of place was him.

Eric looked at himself in the mirror a lot. Studying his face, his hair, his clothes. He stood once after a bath, naked infront of the mirror in his room, trying to find exactly what was different. But he looked exactly the same.

He started pinching himself in places Drystan would touch: his behind, his privates, all over his chest. Dark purple marks littered his body, but Eric had to be careful with his thighs, because Mama had started to notice a few peeking out his shorts.

“I don’t know.” Eric answered, looking anywhere but Mama’s concerned face. “I fall all the time at practice.”

Lie. Eric almost never falls, he isn’t a clumsy person. Mama should know that. Why doesn’t she just say she knows he’s lying?

Eric doesn’t even know why he’s doing it. The first time was in the car ride home from practice on some weekday night.

Mama has been doing more substituting and detention jobs at the high school to help pay for things seeing as Eric’s new rink cost a lot more than they were used too. Mama wouldn’t be able to pick him up till at least 5:30.

“That’s alright!” Drystan had said, pulling Eric close. “We always have a few stragglers, and I’m always staying here late to finish up things. Plus, Eric is a joy to have around! I wouldn’t mind having him help me close up.”

Drystan would take him back to the office later, kneeling down with his head underneath Eric’s hoodie, licking and sucking at his nipples and squeezing his bottom. Eric stood flat against the wall, eyes squeezed tight.

Eric could feel Drystan pulling his head out, hands moving to the waistband of his leggings, rolling them down.

“Say you like it.” He moaned, then growling when Eric just squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, turning his head to the side.

He moved his fingers from where they were trying to push their way into Eric, moving to his side, right under his ribs. He pinched, hard. “Say it.”

He kept pinching, and pinching, until Eric started crying and promptly tuned out right around the time he was bent over the desk, right over a notepad, a pen digging into his stomach.

Eric still didn’t say it, and that must have been the wrong thing to do because Drystan kept pinching him the whole time. For some reason it hurt more than Drystan pushing into him, or his privates getting slammed into the corner of the desk with every thrust.

It wasn’t that everything else didn’t hurt. Because it did. It was just that for some reason Eric could ignore everything else but the pinching was unbearable.

He sat in the car about 20 minutes later, his bottom hurting to sit against the leather seat, tears burning against the back of his eyes. He couldn’t let them fall, so he tucked his arms into his hoodie like he was cold, and pinched himself right under his ribs just like Drystan had just done.

Mama was busy talking about one thing or another, eyes on the road. Eric did it again, and it hurt, but it also keep his mind blank, his hands busy.

Eric kept pinching and pinching, until they pulled into the driveway.

He didn’t feel like crying anymore.

-

Eric still looked forward to practices. Drystan was normal on the ice, even a little distant. He didn’t spend so much time with Eric anymore, and spent more time on the sidelines.

Eric wasn’t doing so good on the ice, however. He flubbed nearly every jump, his skates always feeling like they were going to slip from underneath him.

After one particularly hard fall, and after a few snickers from across the rink, Drystan sighed, motioning Eric to come close.

“Take five, sport. Just don’t fill too much on water.” Drystan muttered, not even glancing up from his clipboard.

Eric didn’t hesitate slipping on his blade guards, and plopping down hard on the bench. Caleb was there, taking his usual inhaler break and chatting with Missy while she stretches.

“Geez, Eric. You’re gonna bruise your ass, throwing yourself like that.” Missy giggled, nodding her head towards Caleb. Caleb smiles, laughing a bit and sipping at his water.

He doesn’t once look at Eric.

Eric doesn’t say anything, but leans down and grabs his water bottle from underneath the bench. He takes a few gulps, only half listening to the conversation to his right.

Drystan glances over. Before Eric even has a chance to feel his eyes lock on him, he hears a sudden crash and a gasp.

“Caleb! What the fuck!”

Water is spreading fast across the floor, pieces of glass sprinkled around their feet. Caleb stands up quickly.

“Oh my God. Oops!”

“Really Caleb? Jesus Christ.” Missy moans, stepping around the growing puddle. “That’s what you get for using an old Snapple bottle for water.”

Marisol, already stepping off the ice and rushing towards the commotion, let’s out a snort and yells to Drystan that’s she’s grabbing the broom. “I got it, Butterfinger! Stay there!”

“Mari! We need towels, too! Dammit, she’s gone.” Missy turns and scurries after her.

“Stay there boys!”

Caleb looks down at the mess before sighing and ultimately deciding to sit down. Eric, unmoved from his spot except for pulling his feet up on the bench glances at Caleb.

He’s breathing quick, and his hands are shaking on his lap. He glances up and meets Eric’s eyes.

“_Shit_.” Caleb mutters, quickly glancing away. “What’s _wrong_ with me?”

Eric doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

He turns looks away from Caleb, back towards the rink.

Drystan was staring. But not at Eric.

He was staring at Caleb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this series is over. But I love the ending!! But I still can’t believe it’s over. 
> 
> Anyways, if you want me to continue this let me know. I had this chapter sitting in my drafts and the ending reminded me to post it. But hey we’re in Quarantine, I might actually have a time to finish something for once. 
> 
> It gets darker from here, folks.

**Author's Note:**

> Super rusty and don’t really know what I’m doing with this. Leave me a comment?
> 
> Hope y’all are ready for a dark one.


End file.
